Love and Death
by One-shot.Dump
Summary: A series of one-shots based on the album Billy Talent III.
1. Bloody Nails and Broken Hearts

Harry clutched the flowers he'd bought on his way home in his right hand. The box with the necklace in it was safely in his left pocket. Their reservations at the restaurant were in a half hour.

Taking a deep breath, he went to open the door. 'Odd,' he thought as he fished out his key. 'Ginny doesn't usually lock the door when she's home.' He unlocked the door, opening the door and sidling in quietly, hanging up his key carefully. He was hoping to surprise Ginny, which was why he was home an hour early.

He crept through the house, quietly looking for his wife. A smile crept onto his face.

That smile shattered abruptly when he opened the bathroom door. There he found Ginny, smiling sultrily, doing up Harry's own bathrobe… on another man.

The man spotted Harry and froze.

"What's wrong, babe?" Ginny purred. When he didn't respond, she turned. Her eyes widened when she saw him in the doorway.

"Get dressed, and I will wait in the living room," Harry growled through gritted teeth.

He stalked angrily out to wait, throwing the flowers onto the table.

The pair came out, hair wet. The man looked sheepish. Ginny looked defiant.

Harry took deep breaths, closing his eyes, trying to stay calm. When he opened them, they were frosty.

"Now, Ginny," he said, turning to her, "who is this?"

"No one." She stuck up her nose.

The man gaped at her. "But you said you loved me!" he shouted. "You said-"

"I said nothing," she hissed at him.

Harry sighed, turning to the man. "Just go," he whispered stonily.

"What?" the man said in shock.

"Just go," Harry repeated, his voice slightly louder and harder.

The man saw his chance and ran.

"So…" Harry sighed. His anger was fading and a hollow ache settling in.

"So what?" Ginny sniffed.

Several moments passed in silence.

"So this is what you've been up to on your 'girl's days out'," Harry finally said.

"What?"

"You don't think I'm stupid, do you?" he drawled. "I've met with Luna and Hermione several of the times you were supposed to be out with them. I just thought you were doing something secret, or maybe embarrassing. Should've know."

"Well, it is your fault," Ginny hissed.

"How is it my fault that you cheated?" Harry seethed.

"I married the Boy-Who-Lived!" she yelled. "What I've got is some cheap shadow of him."

"You married the Boy-Who-Lived, huh?" Harry growled. "I never wanted to be the Boy-Who-Lived! If I had my choice then, I would've just lived a normal life!"

Ginny sneered. "You always ran off, being heroic! Why would you do that, but for the fame?"

"Maybe for my friends? My family?" Harry yelled. "You know what? Get out. I'll send you your stuff, just get out!"

Ginny stared in outraged, opening and closing her mouth several times before storming out.

Harry just collapsed onto the sofa, putting his head in his hands, wondering what to tell the kids.


	2. White Sparrows

I stared at my shoes as I walked down the street where we used to live, down to the little café we always used to go to. When I got there, I got a coffee, sitting where we used to. Watching the teenaged couples in the booth, I felt so old. I just wished I was getting old with you.

I stared at your old spot and reminisced about you. The memory that came to mind first was when we discovered this place. We had been walking home when it had started to rain. We'd ran in here, holding hands, laughing. We sat in the seats I was sitting in, and we talked about the future. We'd decided on having twin boys, Leo Narcissus and Scorpius James, first, followed by a girl, Rosalind Alexis. I can still remember how you laughed at some of the names we suggested.

I got up and left, the coffee only half drank. I walked back to our old apartment, the one we bought together about a year after we started going out. I unlocked the door and walked in quietly and went to go to bed. I opened the wardrobe, and saw your old clothes. They were still in the closet, as I'd never had the heart to get rid of them. I pulled on your old sweatpants and one of your t-shirts. Going out to the living room, I stared at the fireplace, remembering the day it happened.

I'd been sitting in the same spot, staring into the fire, when it'd turned green, and Hermione's head appeared.

"Get to St. Mungo's, quickly!" she'd yelled. I jumped up and did just that.

The doctor had walked up to me then, and told me you weren't coming home. I didn't believe him, and told him so. He then showed you to me. Your skin was so pale, so cold. My heart broke that day.

I also remembered the funeral a few days after that. I'd been one of the pallbearers. I could barely see through the tears that day. It was a dark day, which was fitting - you, the light of my life, were gone.

I shook myself out of the memories, becoming aware of the tears on my cheeks. I fingered the ring I had on a chain around my neck. It was the ring I was going to give you the next day.

The only thing I had, and have, to say about your death was, and is, "Why you?"


	3. Rusted From the Rain

Harry stared at the grounds of Hogwarts. Nothing looked the same. The ground was scorched and gouged. Blood was seeping into the ground, the lake ran red. The castle was demolished, only a few walls left standing.

He had been wandering through the bodies, looking for survivors.

There were none.

As he stood there, he felt the crackle of magic behind him. He turned to see the end of a wand.

"Mr. Potter," said a person from somewhere to his left. A flick of the eyes proved him to be the Minister of Magic. "You are under arrest for the murder of multiple people."

When Harry turned his head to protest, he was stunned.

Some weeks later, Harry sat in Azkaban. He'd been stuck with the murders of all those who'd died in the Final Battle. Since there were no witnesses, they went with the circumstantial evidence, and had him convicted. He was now left to rot in Azkaban.

He didn't feel too bad, though. The dementors, due to public outcry, had been removed and replaced with people.

It was also better here than outside the cold walls. At least here, the scathing comments and attacks on his person were limited.

He felt weak. He just wanted to… let go, and be free. But he couldn't. They wouldn't let him.

Thus, he sat and rusted.


End file.
